


a little slice of life

by jlowi17



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Cutting, GTA AU, Self-Harm, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlowi17/pseuds/jlowi17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray finally gives in to the war inside his head</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little slice of life

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> yo this fic is entirely about self-harm so please be wary if thats not your thing

 

Ray held the razor almost daintily before him, hands shaking just as much as his mind was breaking.  The three parts of him (his body – an empty shell –, his logic:consciousnesss and the hysteria, dissociation and imbalance that was the illogical leftovers) warring for control, for a sense or normality.

_Just do it. There’s nothing to it. Just press down and there’s the slice of life you’ve been looking for. The lick of colour in your grey, unimportant life. They don’t care. They’re lying. You’re nothing but a bug on the windscreen to them. An inconvenience._

Ray know that this isn’t right - that this isn’t what he wants or what the others want but damn, his brain is so charismatic, so compulsive. He knows that he’s split mentally, the logic battling against the urge to take the blade to his skin and draw like doing lines of cocaine.

_They don’t need to hear about your problems. Only you deserve that burden._

The sting of the sharp edge slicing through his skin helps. Helps the logic to turn on itself and agree with the hysteria. That this is what he needs. This is what it takes to feel alive. Watching the blood drip steadily into the basin, Ray stands transfixed. Almost of its own accord, the blade continued down his arm, leaving Ray to watch the individual lines of blood congeal into a bracelet around his lower arm.

By the time he’s finished, he doesn’t want to clean it, doesn’t want to cover up the glory in bandages and antiseptic. He still does this though, knowing that if he does so, then the sooner he can cut again, the sooner he can feel that little bit of colour. He then hides it until it’s barely noticeable, not wanting the others to worry. After all, it was his burden, and the others don’t need to worry.

This became ritual, Ray sneaking off before heists under the guise of smoking weed in his room to prepare himself. Instead he sat in his bathroom, content to watch his own life force run pitifully through his fingers down the drain.

As much as the blood captivated him, it was the scars and angry red lines afterwards that really enraptured his attention. He would wait just long enough after each cutting until his wounds faded, losing their beauty. When the lines were nothing but raised outlines, he would dig into them again beginning the process, losing himself over and over again to living. At least that’s what he’d convinced himself he was doing.


End file.
